Setting Targets
by Shade Nightwalker
Summary: Jed Curry and his brother practicing their shooting skills. (Timeline: childhood days)


Autor's Note: The story was written for a challenge with the topic 'Setting Targets'.

I did a little bit research for I have absolutely no clue about fire weapons and was looking for a gun with low weight. According to the time period I choose a Smith & Wesson No. 1, which was actually a seven-shot gun.

Thanks for proof reading to Nebraska Wildfire.

 **Setting Targets**

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

The last of seven cans flew off the fence and hit the ground with a hollow sound.

Blue eyes narrowed skeptically and looked at the empty fence.

"Hey! That was great!" the only spectator yelled excited. The small boy sat on a log some steps beside the shooter. He jumped off his seat and hurried to pick up the battered cans again. Carefully the blond boy set the targets back on the fence.

"I don't know," the shooter countered doubtfully and ran fingers through his curly hair. "It was faster, but I nearly missed the last one for sure. Show me the can."

"But it's good to be fast!" his little admirer replied and handed it over to him.

"Yeah, sure. But accuracy is important, too."

"Accuracy?"

"Yeah. You have to hit the target as good and precise as possible. It's a kind of balance. You are fast – great! You miss the target – _very_ bad!" the one who was about ten years older explained while he examined the perforated can. "See, the bullet just grazed it there." Thoughtfully he stroked his thumb along the scratch in the tin.

"But you hit it!" objected the youngster.

"But if I had been a little more nervous I would have totally missed it! No, I still have to do a lot of practice," the oldest Curry son admitted with a deep sigh and got lost in his thoughts. Could he improve his skill in time? His plans had a tight schedule...

"Will ya show it to me?" the quiet question came from below and interrupted the shooter's further concerns.

"Show you what?"

"To shoot!"

"Uuuh, c'mon - Pa will skin me alive if he finds out."

"Ya bothered what Pa thinks what's right?"

"Umh, well..."

The blonde kid grinned disarmingly.

"C'mon Sam, please!" he begged him. "I'll get ya some fresh apple pie. I'll ... I'll ... bring notes for ya to Maggie Barlow."

"Hey, stop. What? What you say about Maggie?" he was asked suspiciously.

"Ya like her. And she's sweet on ya. And her pa will shoot ya when he finds ya in their yard again." A wide mischievous grin crossed the small face. "I heard him call after ya!"

"How could you? You can't be at two places at the same time! How can you follow me _and_ your cousin ..." he paused when it occurred to him, "you _both_ were there? Doing what?"

The younger one blushed but refused the answer.

"Oh heaven, please don't tell me!" his brother replied upset showing a glimpse of Curry temper.

He tried to calm down and gathered his thoughts. Where else had they been? What else had they heard or seen? He couldn't even ask him about it without taking the risk to make his little brother suspicious – him or their curious and sharp-witted cousin. Damn, it could become dangerous for all of them if they found out what he and his friends did - and what they had decided to do!

"Well, let's make a deal," he relented. "I'll show you how to handle a gun and you will _never ever_ spy me again, will you?"

Jed pursed his lips and lowered his eyes.

"None of you will!" Sam ordered explicitly. "Speaking of _him_ where is he anyway?"

"Han is gonna spend the day in the woodshed. Was locked up cause of Mrs. Miller's cat."

"Her cat? Why? I haven't seen it for days."

"Ah, yeah ..." the boy stammered contritely. "Well, with all the scars and the black spot on its face it looked like a pirate ... and we built a raft ... and needed a crew ... but then the ropes loosened ... we went all into the water ... and the cat wasn't good in swimming ..." gradually his voice trailed off.

His older brother bit back a grin and stroked through his dark brown curls again. "I see, Jed. Knowing Han, I guess he will join you about noon and return to his detention before sunset. You both can at least take the time to apologize and bring that old woman one of our kittens. They are too many to keep all of them, anyway. It won't be missed."

The blonde head tilted up again and showed a bright smile. "That's a great thought! Thanks!"

"Alright, but what about our deal?" his brother inquired.

It wasn't for Jed to make promises for his cousin too, but the temptation was simply too strong.

He nodded eagerly. "I promise! No spying!"

"Then we have a deal." His brother smiled at him and gently tousled his hair. "C'mon on over here."

Sam sat down in the grass and motioned the boy to sit down beside him.

"That's a Smith & Wesson," he started to explain while he showed his brother the weapon. "It's a tip up model. That means you have to turn the barrel up for loading like this."

He flipped the gun open, removed the empty cartridges and handed it to Jed. Fascinated and with sparkling eyes he turned the gun in his hand.

"Go on, close it and try it yourself," his brother encouraged him. "When Pa's in town next week I'll show you how you dissemble and clean it."

"Why? I mean, I just want to shoot." Jed asked absently while he flipped the barrel open and closed several times.

"If you want to know how to use it you have to know how to care about it," Sam explained seriously. "Take care of your gun and it will thank you. It will never let you down."

"Alright, that looks good. You can reload it now." He picked up new cartridges and showed his brother how to insert them.

"Keep one thing always on your mind when you handle a weapon: you have to be prudent and responsible. It's not a game! There are lives at stake – yours as well as others."

Two pair of similar blue eyes locked, then the younger one nodded seriously. "I promise, I'll never forget."

"Well, then give it a try now." Sam rose and reached out his hand to help his brother to get up on his feet.

"The Smith & Wesson has much less weight than most other sidearms but it still will be pretty heavy for you. You'll need some practice to aim steadily."

Sam motioned his brother in front of him facing the set-up targets. "Take a firm stand and be aware of the recoil. Yeah, that's good."

Jed raised his right hand and steadied it with the left.

"Nope, don't let that get a habit," his brother contradicted and pushed the left arm softly down. "It's hard to get rid of it again. Don't take too long aiming either. I know you've got sharp eyes and fast reactions." Sam smiled again. "You're a real threat when it comes to throwing stones, that's good. Just fix your thoughts at the target. It will take some time but your body will learn how to do the rest. You will become much faster that way. Alright now, go!"

One after another Jed released seven bullets. They hit the dirt and scattered small stones around the fence but the cans remained pretty unimpressed.

"It doesn't work," Jed complained.

"Practice." Sam gave him a wink. "Reload and try it again."

Sam decided that they'd swap the positions every second turn so that each of them could practice. It didn't take much time until Jed's shots hit the fence at least.

The older one glanced up to the sun and estimated the time. "C'mon, one last turn and we call it quits."

The blond youngster fired again.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Clang!

With a hollow sound a can left the fence. Jed laughed in enthusiasm.

"Well done, Jed!" his brother stepped beside him and patted his shoulder. "That's a good end for your first attempt. Just keep practicing. I'm proud of you, little one."

Jed Curry cocked his head and glanced at his brother. Sky-blue eyes sparkled in pride and admiration. He didn't mind practicing. One day he would be as fast and good of a shot as his brother. Maybe he would become the fastest gun of the West!


End file.
